


Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

by the_genderman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Angel Sam Wilson, Art, Discussion of depression and/or suicide, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Sam is a guardian angel in a crisis of faith. Steve doesnotneed a guardian angel, no sir, no thank you.Slow burn (at least as slow as any of my short fics burn) not-quite-enemies to friends to lovers.All chapters except for 11 (Oreortyx pictus) rated G or T. Chapter 11 rated E. Chapter 12 can follow 10 well enough, I believe.Dream meanings from this site: http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamthemes/birds.htmAll art used within fic my own.





	1. Buteo buteo

**Author's Note:**

> Note added 18JAN18: When I wrote this fic, I was under the impression that underlining or italicizing signed speech was the "industry standard" in fic. However, since then I have been reliably informed by persons who sign, that that is not the case. It is much preferred to treat the signed speech like any other language-- like if someone was speaking Spanish, then quote marks would be the obvious choice, rather than underlines, so quotemarks around signed speech is also correct. Since this fic has been around the block for a while, I'm adding this note. Any future fics will utilize quotemarks.
> 
> (Also, if it seems like it could be unclear that the words are signed instead of spoken out loud, then use "signed" can be written instead of "said.")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Buteo buteo_ – Common Buzzard – To see a buzzard in your dream symbolizes death and decay.

What good was a guardian angel who couldn’t keep his charge alive? It had been almost a year since Riley had died, but Sam still blamed himself. As a guardian angel, it was his sworn duty to keep his charge alive, come hell or high water. Soldiers were difficult but not impossible, but Sam knew he was up to the challenge. He should have been able to save Riley. 

Almost a year and Sam still hadn’t taken a new charge. A year was barely a blink in the time since Sam had become a guardian angel, which could be why his failure felt as fresh as if it had happened just yesterday. But a year was still a long time in the life of a human. Almost a full year of living that Riley could have had if Sam had been just a little bit faster. He saw the flare of the RPG, heard his voice trying to call out to Riley to turn, to dive, to do _anything_ to get out of the way. Watched him plummet through the darkness. Sam had dove after him, knowing it was too late, but hoping beyond hope. He had to hope.

He completed his mission alone, but the very next day, all records of Technical Sergeant Samuel Wilson receded into the ether. That was the life of a guardian angel. Immortal, but living only in brief bursts, tied to a human charge.

It was past time for him to stop brooding over one life and to return to earth to protect another charge but still he hesitated. Who would want a guardian angel who couldn’t guard? Sam kicked at his cloud, a puff of vapor rising to gently dissipate. He concentrated, changing his cloud from a gentle cirrus into a brooding nimbostratus, reaching down through the sky, threatening rain. His cloud ought to represent his mood.

A head popped up through the top of Sam’s cloud, scattering raindrops. Clint. Sam wasn’t sure how Clint had become a guardian angel in the first place, because half the time he seemed at least as depressed as his charges. Maybe they listened to him better than another angel because he _understood_ them.

“Hey, man, can you quit with the rain already? What’s this, 174 days in a row now that you’ve rained? At least your cloud moves around, because if you drizzled on the same spot every day, you’d be making some little town very unhappy,” Clint rattled on, still neck-deep in Sam’s cloud.

Point me somewhere that needs rain, ok? Sam replied in sign (one of the perks of angelhood was gaining knowledge of any language you might need to communicate with your charges (or fellow angels)), sitting down next to Clint’s head.

“Nah, man. You can’t keep doing this. This is an intervention. We’re worried about you. No one should be this drizzly for this long. You’re moping worse than me. You need to get back in the game, find a new charge. You’re good at what you do. Sometimes you get a charge you just can’t save. It happens to everyone. You do your best but sometimes your best isn’t enough. That’s life,” Clint shrugged, causing the cloud to ripple. “And if you don’t pick a new person soon, you’re gonna get one randomly assigned to you, you know the rules. Do you really want that? I like choosing my own charges because then I can pick someone who I can connect with, someone who I can really help.”

Fine, Sam signed, his cloud abruptly changing into a ragged fractus cumulus. Bring me the waiting list and I’ll pick a charge.

“That’s more like it,” Clint said, giving Sam’s cloud a shove, sending him skidding across the sky, trailing wisps. “You’re a good angel, you just gotta find someone who makes you remember that.”

\------------------------------

Uh, Sam? Are you sure you want that guy? Clint asked, signing his words now that his hands were free, looking at the abbreviated biography of the charge who Sam had selected from the waiting list. He knew Sam could hear him, but if Sam was going to ‘speak’ a language that wasn’t his mother tongue, then Clint knew he liked to keep the whole conversation in the same language.

He’s an artist. I’ve had pretty good luck with artists before, Sam replied. 

Yeah, but did you read any further than that? This kid’s had twelve guardian angels since he was six. He’s a holy terror, Clint explained. His last angel quit because he ran into traffic to save a dog. I mean, you always gotta try to save the dog, but the way he did it? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was doing it on purpose, almost like he knew he had a guardian angel and was trying to make things deliberately difficult.

He’s a skinny, 26-year-old artist. I think I can handle him, Sam said with finality. You ask me to pick a charge and I do, and then you tell me, oh no, I shouldn’t take that one. All you’re doing is making me even more set in my pick.

Alright, alright, Clint signed, briefly throwing up his hands in defeat. But if you’re back here in any less than three months without getting officially recalled, I get to trade clouds with you, ok? Yours gets so much better of a view than mine.

I’ve got the better real estate because I’ve been at this longer than you. But, you’ve got a deal. I can handle him, Sam said before putting his signature on the line that would put the human named ‘Rogers, Steven Grant’ under his guardianship.


	2. Turdus migratorius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Turdus migratorius_ – American Robin – To see a robin in your dream represents new beginnings and a time for growth

Steve checked his inbox again. No new mail, which meant no new answers to his Craigslist ad looking for a new roommate. The last guy to answer the ad was two days ago and he didn’t understand that asthma and smoking weren’t exactly compatible. The guy before that turned out to be a raging homophobe. And before that guy was a part-time dog-walker who wanted to know if he could maybe only chip in for rent every third month because he didn’t exactly make enough money to pay half the rent on a nice place like this every month. Dog guy was the nicest candidate so far, but Steve was looking for someone with whom he could afford the rent on this place. If he didn’t find someone _really_ soon, he’d have to start hunting, himself. He didn’t want to have to leave this apartment, it was a great place, great location, but not something he could afford alone on a graphic designer’s salary and lingering student loan debt. 

It was only 2 pm, not too late to get out and do something fun while counting down the days until he couldn’t afford the rent on this place anymore. Steve glanced out the window. Raining. Of course. Cold and rainy. Rain meant umbrellas and wet people on the subway, making a longer trip unpleasant, so maybe he wouldn’t journey out to the Met today, either. He got up, walked to the kitchen, peered into the fridge for a moment without taking anything out, and walked back to the living room where his laptop sat on the couch. He checked his email again. Still nothing.

Maybe coffee sounded good. Steve walked back into the kitchen and checked the pantry. Right. He’d used up the last of the coffee this morning. He checked the fridge again. Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed since he’d last checked. Well, there was a coffee shop on pretty much every corner. Rain or no rain, he needed his coffee. He walked back to the couch again, opened his laptop, and did a quick search of nearby coffee shops and cafés. Something locally owned, something close. …Or Starbucks it was. He grabbed his umbrella, shoved a sketchbook and a couple pens in his shoulderbag, made sure he had his phone and keys, and headed out.

\---------------------------

Window table, a grande cold brew, a croissant, and a bag of whole beans for home-use. Sketchbook out, page filling up with quick gesture drawings of café patrons and passersby. Steve had almost put the threat of apartment-hunting out of his mind. His phone rang. Unfamiliar number. He nearly declined the call before remembering that he had put his phone number down on the ad as well as his email.

“Hello?” Steve answered.

“Yeah, hi,” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I’m Sam, uh, Sam Wilson. I’m calling about the Craigslist ad for the apartment. Looking for a roommate. Am I speaking to Steve Rogers?”

“That would be me,” Steve replied. “You looking to schedule a tour?”

“‘Schedule a tour’?” Sam said, voice sounding a little skeptical. “Yeah, sure, a tour. What times are available?”

Great, Steve thought to himself. Let’s put the guy off from the start by sounding like a total dork. A ‘tour,’ hah, that was rich. Why couldn’t he have just said something like ‘when would you like to come see the place?’

Out loud, Steve said “Sorry; that probably sounded pretty stupid. I just need a little time to get things straightened up, put some coffee on. Do you drink coffee? Is a half an hour from now ok? You can find the address ok, right? Parking’s kinda terrible, but it’s close to the subway.”

“Yes, I drink coffee, yes, a half hour is fine, and yes, I should be able to find the address. I’ll, uh, see you then,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, see you then,” Steve said and waited for Sam to hang up first before putting his phone back in his pocket.

Steve stared into his mostly-empty coffee cup, cautiously hopeful. Finishing his drink, he packed his sketchbook away, tucked the bag of coffee beans in next to it, and headed back out into the rain.

\--------------------------

Steve had just finished grinding the coffee beans when the intercom buzzed. He answered.

“Hello again, it’s Sam. Can I come up?”

“Yeah, I’ll buzz you in. Just a moment.” Steve pressed the button and heard the click of the front door lock through the line.

“Alright, I’m in,” Sam said. I’ll be right up.” The line cut out.

Steve scooped some grounds into the reusable brewing cup, checked that the reservoir had enough water, shoved a clean mug under the machine, and hit brew. The knock on his door came as he gave the milk a dubious sniff-test. 

“Be right there!” Steve called, shoving the carton back in the fridge and hoping that Sam took his coffee _without_ milk.

Steve opened the door and just knew as soon as he saw Sam. He stuttered out a weak “Hi, I’m Steve.” A guardian angel in jeans and a sweatshirt, his jacket and a bright red umbrella hooked over his arm, was still a guardian angel. He’d had enough guardian angels that he’d figured out how to spot one when they were pretending to be nothing more than a regular human. Sam cocked his head slightly to the side. Steve recovered quickly.

“Sorry,” Steve said, gesturing Sam inside. “You looked kinda familiar at first. We didn’t go to school together, did we?” Steve lied, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t think so,” Sam said mildly, setting his umbrella next to Steve’s by the door and draping his jacket over a chair. “I’m not from around here.”

“Oh? New to New York? What made you pick Brooklyn?” Steve asked, leading Sam to the kitchen.

“I work for the VA,” Sam said. “I got transferred up here, and your place looks like it’s pretty close. It’s a good size, too,” Sam added, glancing around at the sparsely-furnished space.

“Yeah, it only looks big because I don’t have hardly any stuff,” Steve said, trying to get past the fact that his newest guardian angel was pretending to be interested in sharing an apartment with him. “I hope the VA pays better than my job does,” Steve casually threw out. Did angels get paid? Did angels pay rent? Did angels help with the groceries? He’d never had a guardian angel actually _live_ with him before. Steve pulled the mug out of his coffee machine and handed it to Sam. For himself, he picked a mug out of the sink, gave it a rinse, and quickly replaced the grounds in the brew cup.

“If that’s your way of asking if I can afford half the rent on this place, yes, I can,” Sam said, not breaking eye contact with Steve as he accepted the coffee.

Steve cringed a little. Way to sound insensitive, jerk. “Sorry,” he said. “One guy who answered my ad tried to finagle his way into only paying his half of the rent every third month because he couldn’t afford it. I had to start asking after that.”

Sam smiled. Steve let out a silent sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn’t _too_ offended. “Why bother responding if you know you can’t afford it?” Sam asked. 

Steve just shrugged. “New York’s got all kinds of people. Thursday coming home from work I saw a guy walking a peacock on a leash. You wanna see the rest of the place?”

“Yeah, lead the way.”

\------------------------------

Of course Sam had liked the place enough to want to sign on. Steve was his charge, so he was going to stay and watch him. And if a guardian angel wanted to move in with him, then there wasn’t much Steve could do to avoid it, so he shook hands and signed next to Sam’s name on the paperwork. Steve kept up his cheerful air until Sam closed the door behind him, dropping onto the couch and scowling at the pile of books on his coffee table. Sam had left money for half the upcoming rent and a promise to be moved in within a couple weeks, so at the very least, he wouldn’t miss his rent payment. Steve knew that if Sam had wanted, he could just conjure up everything he needed and be moved in before the sun went down, but as long as he was pretending to be human, he had to try to keep things on human time.

Another guardian angel already. And he’d just managed to get rid of his last one only a week ago. If he didn’t need help with the rent, he’d consider chasing this one off, too. He’d gotten pretty good at scaring his angels away by now. Why didn’t anyone think he could take care of himself? He was stronger than he looked. Which, granted, he didn’t look like much. Five-foot-four, and if his driver’s license said 110 pounds, well that little white lie wasn’t hurting anyone. His asthma was pretty well controlled, he’d finally been able to get a hearing aid for his bad ear once he got insurance through his job, and he’d outgrown his childhood heart murmur. 

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Steve said to the books.


	3. Cuculus canorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cuculus canorus_ – Common Cuckoo – To see a cuckoo in your dream … there may be someone in your life whose presence is unwelcome. Perhaps you are the one who is intruding on other people’s business

Sam was finding Steve unflinchingly and unnervingly polite, which was definitely at odds with Clint’s description of him as a hellraiser. Which could either mean that he had never had a Black roommate before and wasn’t quite sure how to behave around him, or he had somehow figured out Sam’s true identity. Most people tended to be on their absolute best behavior around a known angel. Sam was pretty careful about not letting his true identity slip, but he wasn’t quite sure about what Steve knew. He was either extremely naïve or extremely clever. Maybe both. That was the most dangerous combination. A month and a half in, and Steve had not lived up to his reputation yet. And, to Sam’s surprise, he was perfectly ok with that. He was beginning to admit to himself that he had been out of the job for too long, and it was nice to be able to ease back in. 

The routine didn’t hurt, either. Steve would go hang out with his friends a couple nights a week (Sam had not been invited to go along yet (although that didn’t stop him from keeping an eye on Steve) because that would have been a little awkward at this stage of things, even if they were getting along pretty well) and was home and in bed punctually by 10 pm. When Steve didn’t go out, he’d Skype, watch Netflix, browse the internet, read, or sketch. He attended church every Sunday morning. He volunteered with a group for at-risk LGBT kids and teens. He didn’t seem to live a very dangerous life, from what Sam had seen. The worst thing he had noticed so far was running with asthma, drinking entirely too much coffee for someone of his size, and arguing with assholes on the subway. 

Every morning Steve would be up at the crack of dawn for coffee and a run. The first night after Sam had moved in, Steve had asked him if he did any running, and if so, he could introduce him to some nice routes around the city. Given the frequency of the choice of route, it seemed that Brooklyn Bridge Park was Steve’s favorite. What about Central Park? Sam had asked. Steve had said that it was certainly a nice run, but not close enough for a pre-work trip. Save that for the weekends. Sam quickly took Steve up on his offer of becoming morning run buddies. Well, maybe not buddies. They were friendly, but not quite what you’d call friends just yet, but Steve seemed to enjoy running with a partner better than running alone. Sam enjoyed it, too. Every morning they’d head out to the park, sun rising over the city as they ran. The dawn chorus of the birds in the trees. Loop the park then back to the apartment again to prepare for the work day. 

Yeah, this routine wasn’t too bad, Sam thought.

\----------------------

Steve’s phone alarm beeped. Three in the morning. He was an early riser, but he had to have a good reason to be awake _this_ early. He yawned and climbed out of bed, fumbling to put his glasses on without getting fingerprints all over the lenses. He left the lights off and padded silently off to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottled coffee (he preferred to grind his own beans, but he didn’t want to risk waking Sam with the sound of the grinder or the smell of fresh coffee) and a bagel and returned to his bedroom. Steve flipped his laptop open and sat down on his bed. He gnawed on his bagel as he waited for Skype to let him know he had a call. Waiting for a call from his oldest friend, currently stationed in Afghanistan with the Army, well, that was a pretty good reason to be awake before the sun.

His laptop trilled and he clicked the video icon to answer.

“Good morning, Bucky,” Steve yawned. 

“Well, you’re not wrong yet,” Bucky said. “We’ve still got a little bit of morning left in this time zone.”

“How’s the Army treating my favorite buck private?” Steve joked.

“Not too bad. In fact, you’re gonna have to retire that joke pretty soon; PFC Barnes is well on his way to being _Specialist_ Barnes. I’m gonna be a Sergeant before you know it,” Bucky said with a big grin.

“Ooh, pulling rank on me, are you? Don’t let your head get too big or they won’t be able to find a helmet to fit you,” Steve teased.

“I’ll pull rank if it gets you to listen to some sense,” Bucky teased back. “You keeping out of trouble?”

“For the most part,” Steve shrugged.

“Alright, I’ll take it. It’s kinda dark on your end, but it looks like you’re still in your same apartment. If I recall, you‘d talked about money getting tight a couple calls ago. You finally managed to find a new roommate?”

“Uh, yeah, about that.”

“I sense a story coming on.”

“Yeah. So you know my history with guardian angels?” Steve asked.

“I know you’ve had a lot and that you like scaring ‘em off,” Bucky replied.

“Uh huh. Well, I scared one off almost two months ago and barely a week later I’d got another one. And guess what? He’s my _new roommate_.”

Bucky laughed. “Do angels pay rent?”

“Apparently they do,” Steve said.

“You might want to try keeping this one around for a change, if for no other reason than to help with the bills. What’s he like?” Bucky asked.

“He’s a nice enough guy,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t want a guardian angel, but at least he’s not clingy like my last few. I’m almost tempted not to scare him off. _Almost_ ,” Steve clarified, seeing Bucky’s skeptical expression. “If I _had_ to pick a guardian angel, he’s probably up there among my top choices. He kinda looks like that one actor from The Hurt Locker, you know, the guy who played Sgt. Sanborn. I like his goatee. Not bad-looking at all.”

“You got the hots for your guardian angel?” Bucky teased.

“No, I do not,” Steve said with an exaggerated frown. “Just a declaration of fact. I’m not desperate enough to go after an angel yet.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky said, laughing. “So you absolutely were not thinking about that, no way, no sir. And I’m sure you’ve been on _plenty_ of dates since you and Peggy split up so she could focus on law school.”

“Oh, and you’ve gone on any dates since college, either?” Steve prodded.

“I’m in the Army. What’s your excuse?” Bucky replied, turning to look off-screen. He turned back, saying “Hey, I know it hasn’t been a long chat, but I gotta hang up.”

“Nothing wrong, is there?” Steve asked.

“Nah, things are fine. I just gotta go. I’ll Skype you again as soon as I can, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. Stay safe.”

“You too. And don’t do anything _too_ stupid.”

“You know me too well.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. And I’ll try.”

Steve disconnected the call and folded his laptop back up. Coffee or no coffee, he had time to try to get a bit more sleep before his morning run. He reset his alarm, set his glasses on his bedside table, and lay down to sleep.

\-----------------------

In fact, Sam found that the routine had gotten so routine that he was _actually_ doing some volunteer work down at the VA while Steve was at his job. He could pop out a few times a day to check in on Steve, make sure he was still hard at work at the design firm where he worked. Steve seemed to enjoy the job and it kept him out of trouble during the daytime, five days a week.

A little twinge of doubt in Sam’s heart asked him if this wasn’t too easy. For a charge who had run through twelve angels prior, he seemed entirely too tame.


	4. Pelecanus onocrotalus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pelecanus onocrotalus_ – Great White Pelican – To see a pelican in your dream represents nurturance, sacrifice, and charity. It indicates your selflessness and how you put others first before yourself. You are always caring for others

Five months after taking Steve on as his charge, and Sam’s nagging doubt was proved right. Steve had left for work, and Sam had headed off to the VA. A little before lunch time, he popped in to check on Steve. Steve was not at his desk, his workspace was unusually clean, and his computer was asleep. He checked the canteen; maybe Steve had decided not to eat at his desk for a change. Not there, either. He had packed a lunch that morning, so unless there had been a last-minute change of plans, he wasn’t eating out. Sam popped back to the apartment, grabbed one of Steve’s sketchbooks, and rematerialized back at the design firm. He walked into the front lobby and strolled casually up to the visitors’ desk. 

“Can I help you?” The teenage intern at the desk asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you could tell me what floor Steve Rogers works on?” Sam asked. “I’m his roommate and he left this sketchbook at the apartment. It was sitting by the door, so I think he must have meant to take it with him, but it was still there when I got back for lunch. I could take it up to him.”

“Let me call him, he can come down and pick it up.” The intern picked up the desk phone. 

Sam could hear the phone ringing on the other end, clicking over to the pre-recorded voicemail message. The intern pressed the button to hang up and dialed another number.

“Hi, Ms. Han. I’ve got someone here looking for Steve Rogers. He’s not answering his phone and you’re listed as his supervisor. Oh? Ok. Sorry to bother you then.”

Hanging up the receiver, the intern spoke to Sam again. “Steve’s using a vacation day, he won’t be in today. Do you want to leave the sketchbook here for him?”

“No, thank you. Must have slipped my mind that he took today off. I’ll catch him when he gets home. Have a nice day,” Sam said, turning to leave.

Of course it had been too good to be true. He’d gotten complacent and Steve had managed to give him the slip. New York was a big city. He’d need to get some altitude to be able to locate his charge. Sam was kicking himself for letting Steve disappear on him. Call yourself a guardian angel, he said to himself. Can’t even keep a proper eye on a skinny asthmatic. You’ve been out of the game too long. You let Riley’s death get to you.

 _No_. Castigating yourself won’t help, Sam said to himself, shaking himself out of his fog. What you have to do now is find Steve. Finding a relatively deserted alley, Sam took flight, obscuring himself from human eyes and shooting up into the sky.

\------------------------

An hour later, Sam found Steve in a small group of protestors in Central Park. Dissention was in the air. The protestors were singing, loudly off-key, trying to drown out a group of neo-Nazis with megaphones. Both sides looked ready to snap. Passersby glanced at the confrontation and hurried away, hoping not to get caught up in the violence which looked ready to erupt at any moment. Sam hung back. On one hand, it was his duty as a guardian angel to protect Steve, but on the other hand, Steve was protesting neo-Nazis and he wasn’t about to drag him away from that as long as he was relatively safe.

Sam wasn’t sure who threw the rock, but that was the catalyst that brought the simmer to a full boil. He watched as Steve ducked underneath the flying fists and squeezed his way into the center of the scuffle. Sam sighed and prepared to land somewhere discreet. This must be why Steve Rogers had been assigned a guardian angel in the first place, and then been dropped like a hot potato twelve times before him—a deep lack of self-preservation instincts.

Almost as soon as it has begun, the mass of humanity parted and scattered, leaving only Steve and a tall man with a slightly off-center soul patch. Steve was picking himself up off the ground, blood dripping from his probably-broken nose. His glasses were slightly bent but not broken, probably thanks to the thick, black frames and even thicker lenses. The man with the soul patch was shaking his hand and wincing a little. Sam was trying to look like a bystander deciding if he was going to intervene.

“You talk big, but you sure don’t know how to throw a punch,” Steve taunted. 

Soul patch pulled his arm back and charged Steve. Steve ducked and tackled the other man’s legs, knocking him to the ground. Soul patch scrambled, crab-like, backwards in apparent retreat only to lash out with his leg, kicking Steve hard in the head.

Steve crumpled.

Soul patch pulled a knife.

Sam intervened. He sprinted in and dropped his disguise for a brief moment, barely a second, hoping any onlookers would be too distracted to remember who he was or what he looked like. A blink-and-you-missed-it flash of fiery-golden wings. He glowed, radiating light from within, blinding Steve’s assailant. The man flinched and gave a squeal of terror. He staggered to his feet and sprinted away. Reassuming his mask, Sam knelt down to check on Steve.

“Steve?” Sam asked anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Steve smiled (more of a grimace of pain). “I _knew_ you were an angel. I was _right_ ,” he said confidently before passing out.


	5. Poecile atricapilus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Poecile atricapilus_ – Black-capped Chickadee – To see a chickadee in your dream indicates that you need to pay attention and become aware of something unique and special occurring in your life

Steve woke up in a hospital room. His head hurt. His vision was fuzzy, suggesting his glasses had been removed. Or possibly broken. Or both. He’d have to call Sam and see if he could drop by with his spare pair. He turned his neck gingerly, glancing around the room. Or, Sam was here with him, sitting in a chair next to him reading a magazine (at least he assumed it was Sam. The blurry figure sat like Sam did). Oh yeah. He’d _been_ there. 

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve grumbled amiably, letting Sam know he was awake. For a guardian angel, Sam was actually a pretty cool guy. Steve felt slightly guilty about the subterfuge.

Sam looked up and smiled. “Sure you did,” he said, teasing a little.

“Yeah, yeah. Have you seen my glasses anywhere?” Steve asked.

“I tucked them away for safekeeping,” Sam replied, pulling a small fabric-wrapped bundle out of his shirt pocket and handing it to Steve. “They got a little banged up, but I fixed them the best I could. Try ‘em on, and tell me if you can see right.”

Steve unwrapped his glasses, scrutinizing them. The frames were a little scratched, but not broken. The lenses were miraculously intact. He slid them on and winced as they settled on the bridge of his nose.

“I think they’re ok,” Steve said, folding his glasses up and handing them back to Sam. “I didn’t notice anything off, except that my nose hurts too much to wear them right now.”

“Yeah, getting punched in the face will do that,” Sam stated without judgement.

They were both silent for a moment.

“Sorry about making you have to do the whole… glowing thing,” Steve said quietly. “I know angels don’t like having to reveal themselves.”

“It happens,” Sam said. “It’s not like you went out there this morning _looking_ to get punched.”

“I… kinda did,” Steve said, even more quietly.

“You did _what_ now?” Sam asked, closing his magazine. He focused his stare on Steve, who winced a little.

“I shouldn’t have done it, but I was angry,” Steve explained. “I knew you were an angel from the moment I laid eyes on you. And yeah, it pissed me off a little that not only was I getting _another_ guardian angel, but that you would actually be living with me. I felt like no one trusted me, like the universe thought I was too small and weak and sick to take care of myself and that I needed divine intervention in order to get on in the world. So I played things really low-key for the first few months. And then when I found out about today’s protest outing a couple weeks ago, I made plans. I wanted to see how you’d react to me slipping away and getting into a situation that could easily turn dangerous.”

“‘Could turn dangerous’?” Sam said. “It did. Did you escalate things on purpose?”

“Kinda?” Steve admitted. “I didn’t want to end up in the hospital, but I was all ready to take a punch if I needed to. I didn’t plan on getting kicked in the head.”

Sam didn’t get the chance to reply in full before the door opened and a nurse came in to check on Steve now that he was awake. “We’ll talk about this back at the apartment, ok?” he said, picking the magazine back up and flipping pages until he found where he had left off.


	6. Cathartes aura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathartes aura – Turkey Vulture – To see a vulture in your dream symbolizes purification and insight. It suggests that your past experiences will provide you with invaluable insight into a current situation or problem. Learn from your past

Steve gave his statement to the police at the hospital and was sent home with doctor’s orders to not return to work for a week and to rest for that week. Sam was asked to try to make sure that Steve _actually_ spent that week resting (apparently this doctor had some experience with Steve). He waited until Steve had done all the required calling and emailing to clear his schedule for the next week to begin the conversation they would have benefitted from far earlier. Steve lay in his bed with his laptop closed on his lap. Sam stood at the foot of the bed. 

“Seeing as we’re going to be spending a lot more time together for a while, I think we need to have a little chat about us,” Sam began. He pointed first at Steve and then jabbed a finger into his own chest. “I’m partially at fault too, so don’t get defensive thinking all I’m going to do is lay into you for making a stupid decision.”

Steve began to protest but Sam held up a hand and Steve shut his mouth and nodded for Sam to continue. Taken a little aback by Steve’s surprisingly polite deferral, he lost his train of speech for a brief moment. 

Sam began again. “Earlier you said that because you knew I was your guardian angel, you deliberately put yourself in a dangerous situation in order to see how I would react. That’s not just something you decide overnight. ‘Oh, I guess I’m going to take a day off work to go punch a neo-Nazi who has no qualms about wanting me dead.’ There have got to be some other issues buried under there to make you so reckless that you got assigned not one, not two, but a succession of _thirteen_ guardian angels since you were six.”

“Thirteen?” Steve interrupted. “I’ve had thirteen angels? I thought you were number ten.”

“Nope, definitely lucky number thirteen,” Sam said, taking back the conversation. “Now, things might have started out innocently enough— it was probably the first three angels you didn’t realize you had—but somewhere along the line things turned sour. Why? What makes you want to throw yourself into dangerous situations?”

“You’re an angel, you wouldn’t understand,” Steve said, bitterness entering his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” Sam asked, sitting down on the foot of the bed, getting closer to Steve’s level. Standing over Steve right now would only serve to antagonize him and strangle whatever hopes of an honest heart-to-heart Sam had for the two of them.

“Well,” Steve gestured vaguely, waving his hands in an ‘all-encompassing’ motion. “You’re an _angel_. You’re a celestial being. You may live with us, but you don’t know what it’s really like to be human. Being human is messy. And, well, sometimes it kinda sucks.”

“I know. I was human once,” Sam said.

“You were?” Steve said, his surprise clear in his voice. “I thought angels were supposed to have come into being long before humans ever did.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Sam said, nodding to concede a partial point to Steve. “There’s different classes of angels. Guardian angels like me who are assigned human charges like you, we were all human once. It’s been a long time since I was human, and I know times change, but humans are still human; messy, fallible, capable of anger and violence, but capable of greatness, capable of kindness and love. Capable of growth.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve said, quietly, almost shyly, “what was your life like when you were human? How did you become a guardian angel? I’m assuming that not everyone becomes a guardian angel.”

“I don’t remember everything, but I’ll give you the best abridged version I can,” Sam said, pulling his legs up onto the bed and crossing them, settling in more comfortably for the conversation. “It’s been a long time. I was born sometime in the first century B.C.E. in Rome. My parents came to Rome from Egypt after the War between Antony and Octavian. Better to be living in the heart of the newly-declared Empire than in the territory that supported the losing side. We didn’t have a bad life in Rome, but we were peregrini.”

Steve tilted his head, looking a little confused.

“Peregrini, singular peregrinus, free provincial subjects of the Roman Empire who were not Roman citizens—Rome, Republic or Empire, was more colorful than you might have been taught. Peregrini came from all over the Empire and could gain citizenship by joining the army and fulfilling a 25-year term of service in an Auxilia, which was like a Legion, but only citizens were allowed in the Legions. There were a lot of things that only full citizens were allowed to do,” Sam explained. Steve nodded in understanding. “So I joined the army and eventually wound up in what is now Germany.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Like, Teutoburg Forest Germany?” he asked.

“Yep, exactly like Teutoburg Forest Germany,” Sam answered. “You familiar with it? Well, that was where I died. Let me tell you, the Germanic tribes were not happy with Rome expanding into their territories. I and about a dozen other men got separated from our Auxilia in an ambush. I was injured and I couldn’t keep up, so I did what I could to provide cover for my fellow soldiers to allow them the best chance of survival. I don’t know how they fared, their names were lost to history. All I know is that I died and woke up again with a new purpose in my afterlife. It wasn’t what I had been taught that Elysium was like, but it wasn’t bad.”

“So you become a guardian angel by sacrificing yourself to save others?” Steve asked.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Sam said, wagging his finger at Steve. “Being a guardian angel is harder than being a human. Because we have to be human enough to blend in and to understand what our charges are going through— that’s why guardian angels were all humans first. But we also have to be more than human, in order to protect our charges. So are you or are you not going to tell me why you have this tendency to throw yourself into dangerous situations?”


	7. Struthio camelus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Struthio camelus_ – Common Ostrich – To see an ostrich in your dream suggests that you are not facing reality. You are in denial about something and living in a world of your own. Perhaps, there is a situation that you are unwilling to accept. Alternatively, the ostrich can symbolize truth and justice

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, considering his next move. He sighed. “Ok. I guess you deserve an explanation. From the beginning. My mom was a nurse and my dad was in the Army. My dad died when I was three and it hit my mom pretty hard. She didn’t like to talk about it, but as I got older, I realized that he had probably committed suicide. Maybe PTSD, Gulf War syndrome, alcoholism, some combination of the above. I don’t know. But after he died, she started telling me that even when things got bad, that I should look for the good in the world. Look for the people who, when life knocks them down, they get back up again and keep trying. Look for the people who see those who need help and who stop and help them, even at their own risk. So I grew up with a desire to help people.” 

Steve continued. “When I was six, I remember walking home from school with some friends when a stray dog charged out of an alley, barking like crazy at us. It looked really angry, and we scattered. One of my friends wasn’t fast enough and the dog grabbed his backpack and started dragging him. I didn’t stop to think, I knew I had to help him somehow. So I ran at the dog and started hitting it, yelling at it to let go. It let go, but then it bit my arm. By then, we’d attracted more of a crowd and someone managed to get the dog off of me. I ended up with a broken arm and needed a lot of tests to make sure I didn’t get rabies or anything. My friend whose backpack the dog had grabbed said he was glad I had been there to help him, but none of the adults seemed too happy with how things had unfolded. They said I escalated the situation by hitting the dog, and that my friend should have just taken his backpack off and run. We were six years old! The dog was almost as big as we were and we were scared! I did the first think I could think of to help.”

“Later, I’d asked my mom why people were upset with me. She thought about it for a while and said that they were probably scared, and sometimes people lashed out when they were scared. I asked if the dog scared them, too, and she said they were probably scared for me because I was small and didn’t look as tough as I really was. They probably thought I was too little to fight off a big dog like that. I mean, I knew I got sick a lot and I was smaller than the other kids, I couldn’t _not_ know, but up until then, I hadn’t really given it much thought. After the dog incident, I started to notice how people treated me differently. It wasn’t a huge difference, but it was there. Like I was fragile, like they thought I might break if they treated me the same as all the other kids. I tried to not let it bother me, but over the years, it grew, a little seed of bitterness. I never stopped wanting to help people, but it was partially out of spite, to show the world that I wasn’t as helpless as it thought I was. I wasn’t going to be overlooked just because I was small.”

“That does explain a few things,” Sam said with a nod.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “And then it turned into an ‘I’ll show them that I’m not weak’ bravado kind of thing and I started taking bigger risks. If I had someone protecting me at all times, then what was the extra risk to me? I’d stand up to the class bully and tell him off instead of just comforting the victims. And if I got hit, well, I could take care of myself.”

“No one ever tried to talk to you about this?” Sam asked. “What about your mom? Surely she noticed you acting up.”

“My mom tried, but I was your classic rebellious teenager, and then she died far too suddenly when I was sixteen. Aggressive ovarian cancer, discovered too late. Some other people did try to talk to me about it, I just didn’t listen to most of them,” Steve shrugged. “One of my friends, Bucky, he’d tell me how stupid my ideas were, but then he’d back me up anyway. I think his being there kept me from making even stupider decisions because I knew that I’d be getting him in trouble or hurt, too.”

“I’ve met a lot of your friends, but I can’t call him to mind,” Sam said. “Which one is he again?”

“Oh, you haven’t met him yet. He’s in the Army,” Steve replied. “He joined up after high school in order to afford college tuition. I tried to join the Army, too, but they wouldn’t take me. I was pretty upset for a while, but Bucky eventually convinced me to follow my passion as an artist and go to school for that. Things weren’t too bad during college, but then after graduation, he got deployed and I ended up with a string of really clingy guardian angels and I fell into a depression spiral. I mean, obviously there were more variables than just those, but the clingy angels didn’t help. The last one before you just would not leave me alone, then one day I saw a dog that had wandered out into the middle of traffic, and I decided, fuck it, if I’m gonna die, I’m gonna do it saving a dog. I mean, I didn’t really _want_ to die, but at that moment I didn’t care as much as maybe I should have. The end result? I was alive, the dog was alive, and my angel quit. I was free and clear for a week until you showed up.”

“And then you picked a fight you knew you couldn’t win with a neo-Nazi,” Sam said. 

“Yes, I did,” Steve said, almost apologetically.

“Have you ever thought about seeing a therapist or going on antidepressants?” Sam asked gently. “Having lived as a human or with humans for as long as I have, let me tell you, modern medicine is a wonderful thing.”

“I know I said ‘depression spiral,’ but I’m not actually depressed,” Steve replied. “I’m not sad, I like my job, I like my friends, and I don’t _really_ want to kill myself.”

“Depression isn’t just sadness and suicidal impulses. Sometimes it’s recklessness and intrusive thoughts. Like you said about the dog in the road; at that moment, it didn’t feel like it mattered if you lived or died. When it was all said and done, you were glad to still be alive, but for that moment...” Sam said firmly. “I think you might benefit from talking to a therapist, at the very least.”

“I don’t need therapy,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms. “Why are you so concerned?”

“As both your guardian angel and your friend, of course I’m concerned,” Sam said, crossing his arms and staring back at Steve.

“You could always find another charge if you don’t want to deal with me. All of my other angels did, and I’m still alive and kicking,” Steve said, taunting a little.

“That is not the point and you know it.”

“Then what is the point? It seems to me you’re taking this personally; moreso than any of my past angels did, and it’s not just because you know that I know that you’re an angel. I’ve had enough people tell me I’m trying to compensate for being small, that I’m getting the sense that you’re trying to compensate for something. What is it? Come on, I bared my soul to you, tell me yours.”

“You really wanna know?” Sam said, rising to Steve’s bait. “I have to prove to myself that I can still do my job as a guardian angel. I have to keep you safe and alive because I couldn’t save my last charge. He had his whole life in front of him and I failed him. A man _died_ because I couldn’t do the _one_ job I had.”

The silence settled heavily between them. Sam focused on his breathing, trying to calm himself down. Steve looked down at his hands apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finally said. “I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t know, but you did it anyway.”


	8. Alaemon alaudipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alaemon alaudipes_ – Greater Hoopoe-Lark – To see larks … fall during flight, then it indicates your fall from grace and loss of innocence (also, the Greater Hoopoe-lark is native to Afghanistan)

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked quietly. 

“Not really,” Sam said, just as quietly. “Not while we’re both upset.”

“Ok. If you want to talk any time, I’ll listen. But I wouldn’t fault you at all if you wanted to take a new charge since I’ve been pretty rude to you so far,” Steve added.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me until I get notice that you don’t need me anymore,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I’m not giving up on you.”

“Until I don’t need you anymore?” Steve queried. “You mean guardian angels are supposed to be temporary?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “We are assigned to a human in their time of need and leave when that time passes. It could be a few weeks, a few months, a few years, or in rarer cases, an entire lifetime. It all depends on what the need is.”

“So I’ve been making this harder not only on my angels but on myself, too?”

“Putting it bluntly, yes, you have. However, given the probable underlying depression, even if you weren’t deliberately fighting us, you’d probably still get assigned an angel to keep an eye on you and maybe give you a covert nudge every so often to look into therapy or medication.”

“You really think I’m depressed?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

“I’m saying it’s a distinct possibility. I’ve seen a lot of people in 2000-plus years. It wasn’t always called depression, but it’s always been around,” Sam explained.

“Huh,” Steve said. “I don’t suppose you can do anything to help with that?”

“Just what I’ve already suggested, therapy and/or antidepressants. I’ve got some powers, but they’re limited, and magically altering your brain chemistry is not one of them,” Sam said, smiling and shaking his head. “That’s why humans invented doctors and medicine.”

“Anything I can do to help _you_?” Steve said after a moment.

“Actually, yes,” Sam replied. “You can follow your doctor’s orders and _rest_ for this week.”

“I can do that,” Steve said. “I promise I won’t try to jump put the window or anything.”

“Good,” Sam said, climbing back off the bed. “I’ll check back in with you at dinnertime. Your pantry is distressingly poorly stocked (and _why_ do you own E-Z Cheez? That stuff is nasty), but I think I can manage an approximation of Spanish rice.”

“That sounds good,” Steve said with a smile. He closed his eyes and settled in for a nap.

\-------------------------

Five quiet days was all it took for Sam to realize what had been building this whole time. Five days of Steve not being either unnaturally deferential or deliberately provocative had allowed things to settle enough for Sam to recognize that old feeling. It wasn’t just Riley’s death that had made him so worried about keeping Steve safe. He was falling in love again.

Sam had begun to fall for Riley a couple weeks before his death, the warmth he had felt having nothing to do with the Registan Desert in summer. He and Riley had made it through an intense stealth mission to capture a Ten Rings leader who the Army had finally managed to track down. Back on base, Riley had stretched out on his bunk for a well-deserved rest, Sam sitting on the bunk next to him. Riley had turned to him, smiled, and said “I don’t know what I’d do without you, man.” And at that moment, Sam knew, realized what he had been feeling. He knew all Riley had meant was ‘thanks for having my back,’ but that didn’t change the fact that after centuries of restraint, Sam realized that he was slipping. And that scared him. He couldn’t afford to fall in love in a warzone. Being in love clouded his objectivity and left both him and his charge vulnerable. 

And it had. He had hung back because he had been trying to shake the feeling. Trying to shake off the distraction. And that was all it had taken.

And now he was falling for Steve. He _knew_ he shouldn’t fall in love, especially not twice now in such short succession. What was he going to do with himself?

\--------------------------

Steve’s alarm went off. Ugh, why was it still dark? He squinted at his phone. 3 am. Oh! Of course. His Skype schedule with Bucky. He slid his glasses on, getting less painful with every passing day, and woke his laptop up. He signed in and waited.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve yawned.

“Morning, Steve,” Bucky answered. “Wow, you look awful.”

“Thanks, you too,” Steve laughed.

“What did you do to get all bruised to hell like that? Are you fighting again?” Bucky said, concerned, but with a touch of resignation in his voice.

“It was for a good cause,” Steve replied. “There were neo-Nazis in Central Park. I hit one of them. He hit me back. But I’m alive and that’s what matters.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not getting into this argument again. You know how I feel about it. Did you at least bring backup?”

“No, but Sam showed up before things went completely balls-up.”

“Sam?”

“My guardian angel.”

“Oh, so you’re on a first name basis now? What changed?”

“We had a bit of a heart-to-heart after I got out of the hospital. He’d had to reveal himself as an angel, so I guess he felt we needed to air out some of our issues. He asked me why I’m so reckless, and I asked him why he cared so much. He’s not clingy, but even before I knew why, I could tell that he took this a lot more personally than any of my previous angels. Turns out his previous charge died and he felt guilty about not being able to save him.”

“I didn’t know angels felt guilty,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, me either,” Steve replied. “Did you know that all guardian angels used to be human? Sam lived in Rome around the turn from B.C. to A.D. His parents were born in Egypt under Greek rule, but then Rome came in and conquered Egypt and they moved to Rome for better opportunities. His father was a scribe and his mother was a weaver. He had a younger sister and a younger brother. His father had brought him and his brother up to follow in the family business of scribing, and his sister wanted to become a priestess of instead of a weaver. He wasn’t unhappy with the idea of following in the family business, but there was a distinct lack of opportunities for non-citizens, so he joined the army so that he could gain Roman citizenship and the opportunities that came with it. He had hoped to use his experience as an apprentice scribe to become a tutor after he earned his citizenship, but that never came to fruition.”

“And lemme guess. You’re feeling guilty now about being a dick to him because you two were forced to get to know each other instead of just being strangers who share an apartment?” Bucky snarked.

“How’d you guess?” Steve said with a laugh.

“You’re predictable, Steve. You may have a crunchy, punk shell, but just under that thin exterior, you’ve got a soft, creamy center. You’ve got faith in people. Maybe not humanity as a whole, but once you get to know someone, you’re a really good judge of character.”

“There might be a little more to it than just that, too,” Steve added. “You remember how you joked about me having the hots for my angel? Well, I think I might. Now that I’ve actually gotten to know Sam, actually processed the things I’d noticed, well, he’s a great guy. I like him. And yeah, he’s real easy on the eyes. I’d surreptitiously sketched him about a dozen times before all this happened.”

“Ooh, you’ve got it bad,” Bucky grinned. “You gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, glancing away. “I don’t know if he likes women, men, both, neither, or what. Up until a week ago, I would’ve said that all angels were asexual, but I don’t know anymore.”

“Take him on a non-date date to a museum or something,” Bucky shrugged. See how he reacts to being out with you in a casual setting, not one where he’s having to secretly keep an eye on you or stop you getting punched by neo-Nazis.”

“That’s actually a really good idea, Buck. Thanks.”

“Hey, all my ideas are good ones.”

“Even the time when you got drunk on Spring Break and tried to jump from the hotel balcony to the swimming pool and broke your arm?”

“Ok, all my _sober_ ideas are good ones.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”


	9. Serinus canaria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serinus canaria_ – Atlantic Canary – To see a canary in your dream represents happiness and harmony. Alternatively, the dream could indicate your desires for a relationship or that a new relationship is blossoming

“Oh, this is a good one,” Sam said, stopping in front of a small Flemish Renaissance Adoration of the Magi, artist unknown. 

“It’s got a nice composition,” Steve said, leaning in to get a better look at the tiny painting. “Very good use of space, given the size of the canvas. And Mary and Jesus are really natural-looking, especially impressive at this scale. There are a lot of Renaissance Baby Jesuses out there that look like weird, tiny old men, but this one looks like the artist had actually seen a baby before. And… Hang on.”

Steve squinted, leaning in even further. The docent in the corner looked ready to physically remove Steve from the exhibit hall if he got any closer to the art.

Steve leaned back away from the painting and turned to Sam. “Am I just projecting or does this Balthazar bear a striking resemblance to you?”

Sam just smiled.

“That _is_ you, isn’t it?” Steve asked quietly, leaning in. “I thought you said all record of your temporary human identities disappears after you get recalled?”

“I did. And that’s true, but that’s not a portrait of _me_ , that’s King Balthazar, who I just so happened to have been the inspiration for,” Sam said, giving Steve a conspiratorial nudge to the ribs.

“So you know who the artist was. Is there any way you could contact the museum about getting it properly attributed?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t think they’re going to accept ‘I was there when it was painted’ as proof. Finding any kind of provenance is going to be extremely difficult,” Sam said, shaking his head disappointedly.

“Why? Couldn’t it at least be traced back to a more well-known artist’s studio?”

“She didn’t work in a studio.”

“‘She’?”

“Yes. Her name was Hester Jansen, “Sam explained. “Her husband painted, but he wasn’t particularly good at it and didn’t make much money off of his paintings, so they ended up having to live with his brother and his family. She sometimes painted alongside her husband when she had the free time, and she was a _lot_ better than him. But, she also didn’t have a lot of free time and was unfortunately prone to post-partum depression. I was assigned to her during a particularly bad bout when she felt that she was a burden on her brother-in-law’s family and was considering throwing herself into the Schelde River. I had been maneuvered into a group of traders passing by and I stopped to ask her why she was standing on the edge of a bridge in the middle of winter, wasn’t she cold? After a brief conversation, we brought her back to her village. She said she couldn’t invite me or any of the rest of the traders in because it wasn’t her household, but she wanted to do something for me to thank me for ‘chasing the devil out of her head,’ as she called it. We stayed in the village for a few weeks selling our wares and before we left, she presented me with that painting. She said that when she turned and saw us on the road, because of our colorful goods, the time of the year, and that she had never seen a Black man in person before, she had thought that she was having a vision of the Magi. I parted ways with the traders at the next town and donated the painting to an abbey because I couldn’t take it with me.”

“Well, at least someone remembers Hester Jansen,” Steve said with a smile.

They took one last look at the painting and moved on to the next room.

Steve weighed the pros and cons of slipping his hand casually into Sam’s as they walked.

“So, wait,” Steve said after a couple minutes of silent contemplation of the art, “if I wanted to create an anonymous ‘Interpretation of an Angel,’ then I could?”

“You certainly could,” Sam nodded.

“And you could pose for it?” Steve added, voice rising hopefully.

“I certainly could,” Sam said, turning towards Steve and smiling.

\--------------------------------

Steve surreptitiously pinched himself, trying to convince himself this was real. It hadn’t taken nearly as much debate as he had expected to convince Sam that nude modeling was the way to go. (“I mean, I can try to keep the pose PG-13 if you want, but it’s the only way to properly capture the human form.” “I won’t argue with that.”)

Steve set up his easel in the front room, securing a large sheet of watercolor paper to his drawing-board. He pulled up an IKEA barstool next to the easel and set his box of Conté crayons on it. Sam sat on the couch, a neutral cool gray background, almost matching the tint of the paper on the easel. He had his left foot on the floor, his right leg askew on the couch cushion, foot tucked under his left knee. His arms were relaxed, hands on his right knee, fingers loosely laced. His torso was in profile, left shoulder forward. His face was turned slightly away from Steve, just past profile. (Be honest, Steve said to himself. You’re just trying to get the best light on his cheekbones.)

“One more question before I start,” Steve said. “Should I use my artistic liberty on your wings, or would you be able to show them for this? Could you reveal them without blinding me or are they always as bright as they were in the park? I’d really like to get this as close to life as I can, so that I’ll be able to remember you properly when you have to move on.”

“You really want to remember me?” Sam asked, turning his eyes to Steve, but not breaking his pose.

“Yeah, I do,” Steve said earnestly. “Since I started actually listening to you after the park incident, I’ve begun to notice or remember the little things you said. Like how I’d make excuses for how reckless I was—am. Still am, but I’m working on it. I was on a whole ‘ends-justify-the-means’ thing and because it kept working out for me, I never stopped to think about, hey, this might not be the best idea. And maybe it was because I forced your hand, but I really do appreciate that you actually sat down with me and tried to talk some sense into me rather than just smothering me. So, uh, thank you. And thank you also for agreeing to sit for me.”

“Not a problem. It’s my job to help people, and I like artists. I think I can tone things down enough so that you can look directly at my wings, but leave them bright enough to add some good contrast to your piece,” Sam said, unfurling his wings.

Steve’s breath caught as Sam’s wings appeared, a pale gold, translucent and flickering like candle-flame. Sam lifted his wings, elbow at an acute angle, primary flight feathers straight out behind him. Primaries transitioning smoothly to the secondaries, a broad arc to the tertials lying close on his back. Steve had to tear his gaze away so that he could select the right colors to begin the portrait. 

Trying to keep his hand steady (he hadn’t been this nervous since showing his high school portfolio at the college fair), he lay down the outlines, framing Sam’s figure in light tan and sepia. Selecting a few more Conté crayons, blocking out the planes of his face and body in chestnut, mahogany, raw and burnt umber. Add highlights and shadows. Blend. Richen the shadows with indigo and plum, the highlights with goldenrod and light chrome yellow. Finally, add the wings, intangible and made of light. Yellow-orange, light chrome yellow, white, and the barest hints of sky blue, layered and blended.

Final touch, a hair-thin, luminous golden halo (artistic liberty; as far as Steve could tell, when in full angelic form, any kind of halo would be superfluous—the entire body became light). Steve stepped back from the drawing-board, scrutinized the portrait, and finally declared it as finished as it would ever be. He let Sam know he could move again. Sam withdrew his wings, slipped his bathrobe back on, and walked over to take a look.

Steve looked expectantly at Sam, all nervous excitement. 

“You probably hear this all the time, but you’re a really good artist,” Sam said, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I love how _human_ you’ve made me look.” The compliment not so much in the words themselves, but how they were said.

Steve blushed deeply, swallowing and finally managing a “thanks.”


	10. Falco perigrinus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Falco perigrinus_ – Peregrine Falcon – To see a falcon in your dream suggests that you are focused in your goals and aspirations

Sam was sitting on the couch reading when Steve got home late that evening, his therapist’s appointment following almost immediately after work. He looked up from his book when Steve flopped down next to him. 

“Long day?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, stretching his arms over his head before settling back in. “Long, but productive. Work was really busy, but I got my latest project done under budget and the client was really pleased with it. _And_ my therapist thinks I’m making progress. I’m not sure I see it as clearly as she says she does, but if she says I’m making progress, I’ll try to take her word for it.”

“I think you’re making progress, too,” Sam said. “Take a look at your design portfolio for your work, if you’re skeptical. Your pieces have felt less inhibited lately. I mean, you’ve always been good, but you’re getting even better now.”

“Thanks. I mean it,” Steve said, smiling warmly and settling further back into the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table to rest.

Sam went back to his book, occasionally sneaking a glance out of the corner of his eye at Steve, slouched down and relaxed, hands folded over his chest, looking deceptively peaceful. Sam shook his head almost imperceptibly at himself. He was still hopelessly smitten with this little spitfire. At least it looked like his time with Steve would probably end on a positive note when the therapy and anti-depressants brought him out of the danger zone. It would hurt when he had to leave, but at least he’d be leaving Steve in a good place.

A few minutes of silence and Steve spoke up again. “Speaking of feeling ‘less inhibited,’ I think I have something I want to say to you. It might be a bit of a risk, but, I dunno. I’m getting a feeling that maybe it’s not.”

“Is this your therapy that’s making you want to open up to me? Because I hope this lack of inhibition isn’t due to alcohol. You’re not supposed to drink while on your meds,” Sam said.

“Don’t worry, I’m sober,” Steve replied. “And using my best sober judgement—admittedly, it has a pretty poor track record—I wanted to tell you that I like you. A lot. You’ve really grown on me since I first met you, and I’m really gonna miss you when you have to go back. You’ve done more for me in eight months than my previous angels or most humans did in eight years. I just wanted to say that I really like you. Like, _like you_ -like you.” Steve was blushing now, getting a little tongue-tied. “Like, in the ‘I think want to spend a very long time with you’ kind of way. Y’know, if you didn’t have to go back some day to help other people. And I want to be selfish and ask you to stay longer, but I also don’t want to stop you from doing what you’re doing, what you like doing. I could go back to doing stupid, reckless stuff to keep you around, but that wouldn’t be fair to you. I wouldn’t want to waste all the work you’ve done for me. And I don’t know if angels have these very human kinds of feelings anymore, or if you’d feel the same about me, but I just wanted to say again that I’ve fallen hard for you. There. I’ve said it,” Steve finished, exhaling with the relief of getting it all out.

Sam let this confession soak in for a moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but what I took away from that is that you’ve fallen in love with me?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes think I have,” Steve said, nodding a little. “I think I love you, Sam.”

“Well, if we’re going all-in on confessions tonight, I’ve got one, too,” Sam said, setting his book down and making up his mind to tell Steve. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too. I don’t know when it started, but I figured it out shortly after you came home from the hospital. When you started acting more naturally around me, I finally noticed how I felt.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t say anything? Because I had been so difficult?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I was scared.”

“Scared? Of what? That I wouldn’t feel the same?” Steve said gently.

“No. I was afraid that if I admitted to myself that I was falling in love again, if I let it get to me, that I wouldn’t be able to protect you properly.” Sam closed his eyes, bowing his head. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. “My previous charge, the man who I couldn’t save, he died because after centuries of being a good little detached angel, I fell in love with him and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t feel like I could tell him, so I held my tongue and hoped the feeling would pass. But I let myself get too far away from him, both mentally and physically, and he paid the price for my mistake. I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“I’m sorry that happened. I don’t know what else to say, but love is a powerful thing. And if you want to try things out with me, try just being in love, to get a handle on things, maybe so you’ll know how to deal with it in the future, I’m here for you. Let me take care of you for a change.” Steve lay his hand lightly on Sam’s arm.

“Yeah, I’d like to try that,” Sam said, placing his hand on top of Steve’s.


	11. Oreortyx pictus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oreortyx pictus_ – Mountain Quail – To see a quail in your dream symbolizes lust, love and eroticism.
> 
> Yep, this is the chapter that earns the E rating.

Sam was a little nervous. It was his and Steve’s fourth official date since they had agreed to try a relationship on for size. Dinner and community theater, The Tempest. Given the public setting, Steve had been relatively subdued in his affections, but it was still pretty clear where he wanted things to go before the night was over. And yeah, Sam was a little nervous. To say he was out of practice would be a major understatement; he hadn’t had sex with anyone since olive oil was the lubricant of choice. (He understood there were better options these days, thankfully.) 

“Your room or mine? I know I’ve only got a twin bed, but it should be big enough if we’re laying on top of each other,” Steve asked eagerly as soon as he got the apartment door closed behind them, shrugging off his coat and hat. Sam wasn’t entirely sure if the red in Steve’s cheeks was due to cold or excitement.

“You’re more likely to have what we need, so your room,” Sam answered, hanging his own coat on the rack. “Although, we’re gonna have to think about consolidating our rooms, pretty soon.”

Steve grinned and got up on his toes to kiss Sam. “Are you excited?” he asked. “Because I know I am.”

“You might not be so excited if you knew how long it’s been since I’ve been with anyone. I was still human,” Sam cautioned.

“You’ve definitely got me beat, but I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell too, so we can be awkward together,” Steve replied with a self-effacing shrug. “So, uh, back when you were human, did you prefer top or bottom or what?”

“I don’t honestly remember what I preferred; I know I’d done both,” Sam said slowly, thinking back. “I’m willing to experiment a bit; what do you like?”

“I know I don’t look it, but I prefer to top,” Steve said, reflexively hooking his thumbs into his belt loops and throwing out his chest. He looked a little like a puffed-up bantam rooster.

“Hey, by now, I should hope I’ve learned not to underestimate you,” Sam said with a slight shake of his head.

Steve unpuffed a little, grinned, and pulled his shirt off. He walked backwards into his bedroom, making eyes at Sam and beckoning him to follow. Sam watched as Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled his shoes off, and tucked them under his bedside table before reaching into the drawer. He pulled out a loose condom, scrutinized the wrapper, and turned to Sam.

“We’re in luck—it’s not expired,” he said with a laugh. 

Sam began to strip down, stacking his clothes on one of the shelves of Steve’s bookcase (he didn’t quite trust Steve’s ‘laundry chair’). Steve took off his glasses and set them, the condom, and a small bottle of lube on the top of the table and stood back up, shimmying out of his pants and boxer-briefs simultaneously. Sam took in the view. Steve was definitely skinny, but he wasn’t scrawny. His chest and stomach were hairless and his pubic hair was neatly trimmed. Sam briefly wondered if he was always this fastidious about personal grooming or if he had woken up this morning with the hopes of ending the night with no pants. 

“I’ll say it again, you’re gorgeous, even with my glasses off,” Steve said, giving Sam a very obvious, if squinty, once-over.

“Hey, you’re not half bad, yourself,” Sam replied. “Anyone passing you over just because you’re smaller than them is missing out.”

Steve blushed and turned around. “Uh, do you want to prepare yourself or do you want me to do it?” he asked. 

“I’ll let you do it,” Sam said, stretching out on Steve’s bed. “And then I can put the condom on you when you’re ready. Sound good?”

“Sounds very good,” Steve said, climbing onto the bed and straddling Sam’s hips.

Steve leaned down and kissed Sam almost demurely, barely parting his lips. Bracing himself on one arm, he much less demurely took both Sam’s dick and his own into his other hand and began to stroke. Sam’s breath caught a little as he felt Steve’s pulse against his own steadily-hardening dick. He frowned and gave a little noise of displeasure as Steve let go.

“We don’t have to do anything penetrative tonight, if you don’t want to,” Steve responded.

“No, it’s not that,” Sam replied. “It’s just that you pulled off kinda quick. I liked that, both of us together.”

“Alright, as long as I haven’t done anything wrong,” Steve said with a nod. “Would you like me to keep rubbing or prep you for my dick?”

“Wow, _such_ romantic language,” Sam teased, rolling his eyes. “You’d better get back to business so I can focus on something other than your word choice.”

“I _said_ it’s been a while,” Steve teased back, squeezing in between Sam’s legs.

Steve grabbed a pillow and pushed it under Sam’s hips. Sam raised himself up, readily accommodating him. Once the pillow was in place, he lifted his legs and hooked his hands behind his knees. Rather than reaching up for the lube, Steve slid down the bed, dangling his legs off, toes touching the floor. He leaned in and gently spread Sam’s buttocks apart and pressed his tongue against his anus. Sam gasped and twisted around, trying to get a look at what Steve was doing.

“Ah. Should I have warned you what I was going to do?” Steve asked. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t stop, no, but a little warning might have been nice. I just didn’t expect your _tongue_ ,” Sam replied.

“The tongue’s pretty strong, doesn’t require bringing the lube into play just yet, and I don’t have to worry about if I’ve trimmed my fingernails down far enough,” Steve explained before ducking back down again. 

Sam whined, quickly relaxing as Steve continued licking vigorously, pushing his tongue past the ring of muscle. A few finishing licks and Steve pulled away and climbed back up onto the bed to grab the condom and lube. Sam let go of his legs long enough to tear the wrapper open and roll the condom onto Steve, who added a generous squeeze of lube. Staying up on his knees, Steve slicked himself up, grinning excitedly at Sam. 

“I am the luckiest guy in the world,” Steve murmured, leaning back in. He wrapped his left arm around Sam’s thigh, and with his right hand he guided his dick forward. He pushed, gasping as he slipped inside, Sam tight around him. Steve’s elbow wobbled. He quickly brought his right arm up to try to catch himself, falling ungracefully against Sam’s chest.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized hastily, shifting his left arm down onto the bed to support himself better.

“It’s not ‘weak in the knees,’ but I can at least say I make you weak in the elbows,” Sam joked, wrapping his arms around Steve’s back. 

Steve laughed and pressed a series of kisses onto Sam’s collarbone and neck. He wiggled himself flat against Sam’s chest. “Your chest hair tickles. I like it,” Steve added. Still lying flat against Sam’s chest, he snapped his hips, eliciting a moan from him. Steve thrust again, getting a rhythm going. Sam trailed his fingers up Steve’s back, hand shaking a little as he traced the ridges of his spine. Steve made a little pleasurable noise and kissed at Sam’s throat. 

Sam felt one of Steve’s hands snake between their bodies, fingers wrapping loosely around his dick. Steve lifted his body just far enough off of Sam’s to tease at his dick. He stroked with a light, gentle touch, contrasting his more vigorous thrusts, the ridge of his glans dragging tantalizingly over Sam’s prostate. Sam moaned as each stroke, each thrust, stoked the fire at the base of his spine. Unable to hold it in any longer, he cried out and orgasmed, clenching down on Steve.

Steve wasn’t absolutely sure, but he thought Sam might have lapsed into Latin as he came.

Once Sam had come back down, Steve pulled out slowly and scooted the pillow out from underneath him. Sam stretched his legs back out and Steve tucked himself under Sam’s arm, pressing his side to Sam’s. Leaving the condom on, he brought himself to completion, gasping and curling in on himself. He slumped back, spent. Sam found his hand and squeezed it contentedly.


	12. Rhamphastos toco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rhamphastos toco_ – Toco Toucan – To see a toucan in your dream denotes paradise, relaxation and ease. This dream symbol may also appear as a pun on “two can”. In other words, two can do it. It is about a partnership, collaboration or teamwork. You cannot do everything yourself, but two can do it

Just because Sam knew the day would come didn’t mean he was planning to just roll over and accept it. The Recall arrived by email this time (angels had to keep up with technology, too). The message stated that, due to the unorthodox relationship with his charge, he would be allowed to bid him farewell, but that he was being officially recalled. Sam’s finger hovered over the delete button. What if he ignored the Recall? He knew resistance to the Recall happened on occasion, usually because the angel disagreed with the conclusion that their charge was no longer in danger. He’d never actually _met_ anyone who had argued a Recall, and didn’t know how it was supposed to work. Steve _wasn’t_ in danger anymore; he didn’t require a guardian angel anymore. Sam knew he wasn’t needed here as an angel. He hoped that Steve might still need him here as a partner. 

Then, an idea. Sam hit the ‘new message’ button and began typing. Asking for the current contact information for Clint Barton. Clint had gone through an intense period of confusion when he first woke up as an angel, wondering how he had come to deserve his new role. Instead of moving directly into guardianship, he had instead spent the first five years poring over every bit of angelic literature he could find, from every culture imaginable. Maybe he had read something more specific, more concrete, about angels who had argued the Recall, successfully or not.

His phone chirped. A new email had arrived. A phone number for Clint. He typed out a message.

The phone beeped in reply.

 **Agent Barton** : Hey man, long time no talk

 **Sam** : Agent, huh? You got time to chat?

 **Agent Barton** : Yeah, I got a new charge, and an interesting role to play to keep her safe. She finally fell asleep so I should have time. She’s really freakin paranoid, but I think I’m gaining her trust. She’s got a lot of promise, but she is a *handful* and I could use a brief distraction

 **Sam** : Where have I heard that before?

 **Agent Barton** : Yeah yeah. So, how’s your hellion? You still with him? It’s been a year and a half now, hasn’t it?

 **Sam** : A year and seven months. And he’s good. That’s actually why I’m texting you. I’m being recalled and I don’t want to go back. Do you remember anything from your study binge that went into detail about angels who argued against or outright refused the Recall?

 **Agent Barton** : You don’t want to go back? What happened? Do you think he’s gonna relapse if he doesn’t have someone watching him?

 **Sam** : It’s not that. We kinda fell for each other. Like *romantically*. Even stronger than I had it for Riley, and you know how that was. I don’t want to leave him

 **Agent Barton** : The course of true love never did run smooth. How goes it? Are we talking Pomona and Vertumnus or Orpheus and Eurydice here?

 **Sam** : Orpheus and Eurydice, but I’m hoping for a happier ending. Man, I wouldn’t pull a Vertumnus. That’s just rude. If he didn’t feel the same way, I would not be bothering him about it

 **Agent Barton** : That’s rough. You can fight the recall, but it won’t be permanent. And anyway, you’re not gonna age, so the longer you’re together, the weirder it’s gonna get. If you explain the circumstances, you could probably get your time extended long enough to figure out how to break up with him as gently as possible

 **Sam** : It’s actually more complicated than that. Due to an unplanned event last July, I had to reveal myself briefly. He knows I’m an angel. He knows I’ll have to go back eventually, but he still wanted to do this, to have a relationship with me

 **Agent Barton** : Hmm. I have an idea, but it’s pretty much the last ditch nuclear option. There’s no coming back from it

 **Sam** : I’m willing to listen

 **Agent Barton** : Alright. Buckle in

\------------------------------

Steve got home from work to find a note on the table. He picked it up and read “Out for a run, back before dark. Don’t wait for me for dinner. – Love, Sam”

Steve frowned. Something was up. For Sam to go running in the evening, there had to be something bothering him. Something bothering him enough to send him on an evening run, _and_ to miss dinner (just because angels didn’t need to eat didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy good food). Steve scrutinized the note, hoping to see something in those two sentences that could help him figure out what the problem was. A couple blank minutes and he made himself set the note down. He fished some leftovers out of the fridge and popped his plate into the microwave. Worrying about it wouldn’t do him any good. Just eat your dinner and ask Sam when he gets back. No use making trouble where there might not actually be any.

\-----------------

Steve was on the couch with a book when he heard the door open. He quickly pushed his bookmark in and dropped the book on the cushion next to him. He twisted around and looked towards the door. Sam was carrying a small pastry box.

“That looks like a Junior’s box. Don’t tell me I forgot your birthday,” Steve joked, trying to sound relaxed.

“It’s still a week out, don’t worry,” Sam replied, carrying the box into the kitchen. 

Steve got up from the couch and followed him. “So, what’s in the box then?”

“Cheesecake. Just not birthday cheesecake.”

“Not-birthday cheesecake plus the note you left. Dare I ask the occasion?”

Sam set the box on the counter and plated up the two, large slices of chocolate mousse cheesecake. He handed one to Steve. “Don’t worry, I’m going to explain. Only thing I ask, is that you don’t interrupt; it’s kind of complicated,” he explained, taking his slice to the table and sitting down. 

Steve sat down across from him and nodded. “Ok. It’s not something bad, is it? Because this sure feels like you’re softening me up for something.”

“Well, yes and no. You remember what I said about guardianship only being a temporary thing?”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly. His eyes went wide. “No! You’re being sent back? I don’t want you to go, I’m not ready.”

Sam gave him an ‘I wasn’t finished’ look. Steve apologized and shoved a huge bite of cheesecake in his mouth to shut himself up.

“Continuing. Short answer, yes, I received an official Recall a couple days ago. Longer answer, I received an official Recall, but it’s more complicated than that. There are options, some of which are less than ideal. First option, I bid you farewell and return to receive a new charge. I don’t want that. Second option, I argue that I believe that, given our rather unusual angel-charge relationship, that leaving immediately would put you back into danger. This would give us maybe another month together, in which to attempt a soft breakup (and to try to find you a new roommate). Three, you do something stupid and reckless, which might get my time with you officially extended, or it might get me immediately reassigned because our relationship caused the reckless behavior. Fourth option, which I just learned about a couple days ago, I resign my position and become human again. If I take that option, I can never become a guardian angel again. I would live the rest of my life as a human and honestly, I don’t know if there is an afterlife outside of guardianship or if I’d be allowed into it after giving up my semi-divinity. I’m leaning towards option four, but I haven’t made a decision yet. It’s the only way I can see for us to stay together.”

Steve swallowed hard. “I can offer my opinion,” he said quietly, “but I wouldn’t presume to decide for you. This is _your_ life in the balance. If you want to stay, if you want to stay with _me_ , I will gladly have you. For as long as you’ll have me. I love you, Sam. I really do. I don’t want to imagine a life without you. Even if another angel had managed to get me to confront my depression, my life wouldn’t be as good as it has been with you. I know it wouldn’t. But, if you decided to go back, or if they don’t let you stay, I’ll live, but I’d much rather live _with_ you.”

Sam reached out and placed his hand on Steve’s cheek. “I want to live with you, too. As long as you’ll have me.”

Steve placed his hand over Sam’s, sitting like that for a few moments before somewhat abruptly changing the subject, dropping their still-linked hands to the table. “So, if you don’t have to spend all your time doing angel-y things, what would you want to do? Actually work at the VA?”

“It’s not a bad job, but if I can swing it, I’d really love to teach. I think I would do a damn fine job at art history,” Sam said. “I wouldn’t need to go to one of the big-name universities, just put me at a community college where I can make a difference in some kids’ lives and I’ll be happy.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. You’d be great at that.”

\---------------------------------------

Sam woke to Steve’s phone alarm. He yawned and gently squeezed Steve’s shoulder, coaxing him awake. Steve mumbled something and groped for his phone, finally managing to get the ‘silence alarm’ on his third try. Just because he was an early riser didn’t mean he was particularly coherent or coordinated before the caffeine kicked in.

“I’ll go start the coffee,” Sam said, sitting up and stretching. He got to his feet and stopped. Something felt different.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked, squinting at Sam, glasses-case in hand.

“I would definitely not say ‘wrong’,” Sam replied, turning to face Steve. “Put your glasses on and tell me if you notice anything.”

“Notice anything what?” Steve asked, dipping his head to settle the earpieces comfortably. He looked up again and made a noise that Sam could only describe as a very excited squeak. “You’re human!”

“Yep, I’m human,” Sam said, grinning.

Steve sat up and shuffled across the bed on his knees as quickly as he could and wrapped his arms around Sam, hugging him tightly, and temporarily at a loss for words. Sam picked Steve up and swung him around, gently setting him back down on his feet.

“My laptop’s in the living room. You wanna go drink some coffee on the couch and find out what kind of identity they’ve set me up with?” Sam asked.

“Absolutely,” Steve replied, grabbing Sam’s hand and tugging him out of the bedroom, both still in their pajamas, for coffee and a new beginning.


End file.
